


O Sunrise

by fandomfrolics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfrolics/pseuds/fandomfrolics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks he remembers doing this. He’s done this for someone, massaged their sore muscles, his hands know the motion too well for him to have not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	O Sunrise

He thinks he hears a noise and pauses, right hand wrapped around his left bicep, cocks his head. When nothing breaks the silence for a minute, he turns his attention back to the entirely unpleasant task at hand. With the small stick firmly between his teeth, he tightens his grip around the metal, shuts his eyes, and  _pulls_.

_SNAP_

The remnants of the stick fall from his mouth as he eases the arm completely away from his shoulder. He reaches for the bottle of lotion on the table, pumps out a generous amount, and quickly slathers it on to the open wound, hissing in relief as it almost instantly starts to take effect.

He thinks he remembers doing this. He’s done this for someone, massaged their sore muscles, his hands know the motion too well for him to have not.  _Steve_ , something in his brain supplies.

He sinks back into the old moth-bitten couch cushions and lets his eyes fall shut again, giving room for the memory to come to him instead of trying to chase after it like a quick-fading dream.

Long nights, pouring rain, blood and bruises and a man, maybe two men? No, they are the same, have the same sharp, blue eyes, same soft pink lips, same completely idiotic stubbornness. The man is small and Bucky is there, trying to fix the pain and it’s not enough, it’s never enough, but then he’s big, bigger than Bucky, and there’s no more cuts to patch, no more stiff shoulders to rub but Bucky does it anyway and the rain is beating down and the man is solid and strong, made entirely of hard muscle but when he turns around his eyes are so so soft and the man ducks his head until their foreheads meet and when they kiss it’s gentle and comfortable and so wonderfully familiar.

"Steve," Bucky whispers, and the images are flashing quick in his head now, filling his brain with touches and scents and tastes that somehow stayed the same when everything around them was changing. The lotion’s leeched all the pain from his shoulder and he opens his eyes. With trembling fingers, he undoes the button and fly of his stolen jeans and with a couple more pumps of the lotion, takes himself in hand.

They hadn’t been able to get together too many times, before. Steve was too hurt too often and then when that wasn’t a concern anymore, well, they were still fighting for their lives and it was hard to get away. The Commandos were loud and boisterous and  _nosy._

But still, they managed their own stolen moments, Bucky’s hand over Steve’s mouth because  _god_ , he was loud, and when Steve licked his hand to get it away Bucky would keep him quiet with his tongue instead. He remembers, suddenly, thinking that Steve always liked to push it, like he  _wanted_ to get caught.

He thinks of Steve on his knees, grinning up at him through puffy lips before he swallowed him down, of Steve’s small hand trying to fit around them both, of Steve’s new, bigger hands having no problem taking just what they needed from Bucky.

He’s moaning now as his hand moves faster and a voice in his head tells him that maybe he should be quiet, maybe this isn’t the best time for this, but the images are flying too fast behind his eyes and he’s lost in a haze of what they were and

_BLAM_

Bucky’s eyes fly open. A shock of pain runs through his left shoulder as he tries to flex an arm that isn’t there but he’s ready, he’s got his gun up and his grip may be slippery but his finger is on the trigger and he—

"Steve?" he rasps out.

Steve’s eyes are wide and Bucky doesn’t miss the way they flick downwards. He swallows hard as he feels his pants sag a little and remembers what he was just doing.

"Buck," Steve whispers and he goes to take a step forward, but aborts the movement as the gun in Bucky’s hand shakes.

"What are— how do you keep finding me?"

"I have a lot of help," Steve replies and there’s too much in his eyes, Bucky can’t take it and he snaps his gaze away. He lowers his arm and and the gun falls out of his hand onto the couch with a soft thump.

"Bucky, please," Steve says as Bucky pulls his clothes together, pulls  _himself_ together, “please stop running away. I know you’re starting to remember. I can’t— I can’t imagine how confusing this all must be. Let me help you.”

He wipes the lotion off on his jeans, tries desperately to ignore the painful hard-on beneath them but Steve is standing there, mere feet away and Bucky  _remembers_ , god does he remember and now he’s thinking it would be so much better if he didn’t.

"I don’t deserve to be helped," he says and before Steve can move, he’s picked up the gun and shot out the one flickering bulb lighting the room.

And then he’s gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a very elaborate prompt on Tumblr, in which Steve bursts in on Bucky masturbating to thoughts of Steve.  
> Title is from the Matt Hires of the same name.


End file.
